


Scars

by auddity



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 11:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1302484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auddity/pseuds/auddity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I've never had a scar, and I never will. I guess I have trouble wrapping my head around the idea that it's permanent; that that experience will stay with you forever."</p>
<p>Derek kind of has a scar kink...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Short and sweet. Takes place after Illuminated. What did people think about that bisexual tease at the blacklight party? Progress or just queer-baiting? After Echo House I'm thinking the latter :(

Stiles groaned and rolled over in bed. Everything hurt; his nerves buzzed with electricity. His room was mercifully dark, but it did little to cure the pounding behind his eyes. 

“Stiles?” a voice called softly from the doorway. Derek pushed open the door while balancing a tray laden with dishes.

“Derek Hale bringing me room service,” Stiles chuckled, “Never thought I’d see the day.”

He expected a snarky reply, but Derek just huffed modestly and avoided his eyes. “Melissa thought you should eat,” he said simply. He crossed the room without turning on the light, for which Stiles was grateful. He pushed himself up, wincing as the pain hummed through him.

Derek caught his expression. Worry creased his brow, but he let Stiles collect himself while he busied himself with the tray. “Water or tea?” 

Stiles crinkled his nose, “Water. I hate tea.”

“Water it is,” Derek handed him the glass, “Melissa made you soup.”

“Bless her,” Stiles downed the last of the water and accepted the steaming bowl. He was in the middle of slurping his first spoonful when to his surprise, he felt Derek settle onto the bed next to him. “Uhhh, what’re you doing Der?”

“Hmmm?” Derek raised his eyebrows as if nothing were amiss, “What do you mean?”

“You’re just going to sit there and watch me eat?”

“Melissa said to make sure you ate it all.”

“Well no problem there,” Stiles took another huge bite, “I was starving.”

“Oh,” Derek said, “Okay.” Stiles eyed him suspiciously, but decided he was more interested in his soup. They sat together in the dark, with only Stiles’s slurping to break the silence. Eventually Derek grabbed the mug of tea and sipped it, happy to have something to do. When Stiles emptied the bowl, Derek took it wordlessly and offered him a sleeve of crackers in its place.

“...Thanks…” Stiles was really weirded out now. “Okay, what is going on with you? Why are you here? More importantly, why are you being so nice to me?”

“I was worried about you,” Derek said earnestly, “Scott told me you went to the hospital and you were… you weren’t well and that Melissa kept you overnight. She asked me to bring you the soup.”

“How’d you know I was home?” he croaked. His dad had picked him up in the morning and he’d been attempting (and failing) to sleep ever since. He really was exhausted.

“I followed your scent,” Derek said nonchalantly.

“...Because that’s not creepy at all.” Stiles sighed, “Okay well I’ve eaten and I’m not dead or trying to kill anyone, so thanks for, you know, checking up on me, but-” Stiles was cut off as another wave of pain swept through him.

“Stiles?” Derek jumped up, “Stiles, lie down. Just try to breathe through it.” He helped Stiles back into bed and lifted up his t-shirt.

“Whoa, watch the hands buddy-” Stiles mumbled.

“Lie still,” Derek ordered. He placed his palm on Stiles’s chest and the pain immediately surged through his veins. Stiles let out a moan of relief. 

“Not too much,” he warned hazily. 

“I can handle it,” Derek said through clenched teeth.

Stiles sat up and forced Derek’s hand away. “We don’t know that. We don’t what this is or what could happen to you if you take too much of my pain.”

Derek looked unconvinced, but he didn’t argue. “What does it feel like?” he whispered.

Stiles shuddered, “It feels like something’s moving inside of me. Like something’s trying to get out.”

“When did the pain start?” Derek asked.

“Right after I went back to the chem lab; when I figured out I’d written those numbers,” he swallowed hard, “It’s like it knew I’d figured it out, and now it’s retaliating.” He shuddered.

“Are you scared?”

“I’m terrified,” Stiles answered, “Not just because I have no idea what’s doing this to me, but I have no sense of having lost time. When Peter possessed Lydia she said there were gaps of time she couldn’t remember, but I don’t feel like anything’s missing. Which means I could have done something much worse than siccing Barrow on Kira and have no memory of it. Honestly Derek,” he paused, as if admitting a secret, “I’m just waiting for the day I wake up covered in someone else’s blood.”

Derek moved closer to Stiles; he felt the involuntary urge to comfort him, but he stopped himself. “That’s not going to happen. You won’t let that happen. You’re strong, Stiles, stronger than you give yourself credit for. You can fight this. We’re going to figure this out - you, me, Scott, everyone - we’re going to fix this.”

“What if it can’t be fixed?” to his embarrassment, tears welled in his eyes, but he didn’t wipe them away. “Anyway Scott has so much else going on with those smoke ninjas marking everyone and figuring out what’s up with Kira, not to mention dodging his idiot dad - no one has time to deal with me.” 

“Of course they do,” Derek protested, “We’re all here for you-”

“Where is Scott then?” Stiles cut him off, “He knows I was in the hospital! So where is he? Probably with Kira-”

“Okay, well I’m here.” Derek looked him in the eyes, “I’m right here, Stiles.”

His breath caught in his throat as Derek stared at him. His gaze was so genuine, so open, that it caught Stiles off-guard. Since when had Derek been the emotionally stable one? He knew Derek could probably feel his heartbeat pick up but he didn’t care, and to his credit Derek didn’t look away. He sat up slowly, never breaking eye contact, until he pressed his lips softly to Derek’s. He tensed against the contact but didn’t pull back. Stiles broke the kiss, but before he could turn away Derek grabbed him and kissed him back, harder. His hands cupped Stiles’s jaw and Stiles snaked his hands through Derek’s hair, pulling him closer. The kiss was hungry but brief. They pulled apart, both panting slightly. Stiles rested his forehead against Derek’s, loving the way Derek was now running his thumbs along his jaw.

“What was that?” he breathed.

Derek just shook his head in disbelief, “You kissed me.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t exactly stop me, did you? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you?” Derek countered.

Stiles paused, thinking, “I only just realized myself. At the blacklight party.”

“But I didn’t even see you there,” he reasoned.

“It was something Caitlin said when we-” he was cut off by the pain again. It started in his stomach and radiated outward. If felt like something was tearing a hole inside of him. He lowered his head to Derek’s shoulder, gripping his shirt as the pain coursed through him. “Derek,” he whimpered.

“Okay, okay, shhh,” Derek soothed, but he could not keep the fear out of his voice. He tucked Stiles back into bed and climbed under the covers next to him.

“What’re you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? Getting in with you.” Derek turned Stiles on his side and tucked himself behind him, spooning his shaking form. He snaked his arm around Stiles’s waist so he could leech his pain away while he was holding him. Derek ran a soothing hand up and down his torso while the other rubbed his back. When the pain had ebbed, Stiles rolled onto his back to face Derek. 

“Don’t stop,” he whispered.

Derek eased Stiles’s shirt up and off of him and lowered himself down to place hot, breathy kisses along Stiles’s stomach. He kissed up his chest, tracing his collarbone, while his hands ran up and down Stiles’s arms.

“Why are you doing this?” Stiles asked groggily.

“Because you need it,” Derek answered, “I just want to make you feel good.” 

“Mission accomplished.”

Derek grinned and continued his exploration. He halted when he felt something raised on Stiles’s elbow. “What’s this?” he asked.

“What?” It took Stiles everything he had to collect his thoughts enough to focus on Derek’s question, “Oh, that? It’s just a scar.”

“From what?” Derek sounded concerned.

“Little league I think,” Stiles shrugged, “It’s not a big deal. It happened like ten years ago.”

Derek smirked, “You played little league?”

“Yeah, my dad coached.”

“Is that why you have so many baseball bats?” Derek deadpanned.

Stiles let out a real laugh, “Yeah, I guess so.” Emotional and funny, Derek was surprising him left and right.

“Do you have any more scars?” Derek traced the mark with his fingers.

“I don’t know, maybe.” Stiles frowned, “Why are you so interested?”

“I’ve never had a scar,” Derek explained, “And I never will. I guess I have trouble wrapping my head around the idea that it’s permanent; that that experience will stay with you forever.”

“That’s not a bad thing. Scars are like memories,” Stiles said, “They’re a record of where you’ve been and what you’ve lived through. Scars mean you survived.” Derek caught his eyes; he wasn’t sure if Stiles was talking about physical scars anymore. Stiles’s pensive look softened. “Why don’t you find the rest?” he suggested boldly.

Derek smirked again and continued his search. He found one on Stiles’s knee: “Lacrosse,” Stiles explained; on his shoulder: “skateboarding;” on his chin: “lacrosse again.” Then he found one hidden beneath his eyebrow. “What’s this one from?” Derek asked.

Stiles shifted uncomfortably. “Gerard,” he whispered. Derek’s eyes widened in shock and he kissed the spot gently. Stiles reached up to frame his face and Derek caressed his forearms. He felt four small marks on Stiles’s left forearm. 

He looked up. “These feel like claw marks,” he breathed, “Kali?”

Stiles shook his head, “No, Derek, that was you.”

Derek exhaled sharply, horrified, “I did that to you? When??”

“I don’t know,” Stiles hated himself for telling him, “It doesn’t matter, I can’t even remember it.”

“But I hurt you!” Derek protested.

“Maybe it was when you pushed me into a wall or shoved me against a locker,” Stiles winced - he wasn’t making things any better. “Or maybe it was when we were in the pool. I honestly don’t remember, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not worried about it and neither should you.”

“But-”

“Honestly,” Stiles cut him off, “I kind of like having your mark on me.” He blushed, “I like having that tie to you.”

Derek looked miserable, “Really?”

Stiles couldn’t help it: he leaned up and kissed the frown from Derek’s lips. “Really,” Stiles whispered when they pulled apart. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, “Want to help me make some new scars?”

Derek’s only answer was to kiss him, but he really, truly did. Metaphorically, of course.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading -- let me know what you thought!


End file.
